My friend Carlton Heath, who has died aged 84, was a wise and interesting man who moved to Britain from Jamaica in the 1950s and became a well-known personality in our part of north London, where he was regarded with affection by many people.
I first met him in 1986, when a group of us moved to a house in Beatty Road, Stoke Newington, where he turned out to be our neighbour. Carlton quickly became part not just of our own lives, but those of our friends too. We also got to know his siblings, Ivor and George, his daughters Beverley, Pam and Tracey, and other members of his large family, as well as many of his cronies; characters such as Brown (we only ever knew him as that) and Boysie Hector, with whom he grew up in Montego Bay.
“No 20”, as he liked to call his home, was definitely Carlton’s castle. He bought it in 1962 as a solution to the unwelcome reception that he, along with Irish people and dogs, received when he tried to find lodgings at that time in London. He told us how no bank would lend him the money, so he came to the rather unusual arrangement of borrowing the £1,500 he needed from the woman who was selling him the house, agreeing to pay it back with hefty interest of £500. In the event, he was able to clear the debt in just two years by working day and night in two jobs – at Ford motor works in Dagenham and in a bread factory on Ridley Road, Dalston. Later in life he made a living as a car mechanic, often working on people’s vehicles in the road outside his house.
Carlton’s oft-repeated stories of life in Jamaica and his early times in London were fascinating. Despite the frequent thrashings that seemed to be meted out at his school, he was well-educated and could recite a wealth of poetry, as well as lines from Shakespeare and various religious quotes, although he was not a follower of any faith.
He retained a love for Jamaica, but went back there only once during the 58 years he lived in London, reasoning that Montego Bay would be a very different place to the one he left in 1957 and that he would rather keep his fond memories intact. Carlton was proud of his British passport, and during the 2001 census he asked me to check his form before he sent it off. He had entered his place of birth as British West Indies, which Jamaica still was when he left. No amount of arguing would persuade him to change it to Jamaica.
Carlton was a self-contained man who was content with his lot. He loved wandering the streets of Stoke Newington and Dalston, visiting the markets to buy old tools and all sorts of stuff that then filled his house – as well as mangoes and watercress that he would leave on our doorstep. On his travels he would always talk to people, and it seemed as if everyone knew him. He was the life and soul of Beatty Road for 52 years and it will not be the same without him.
He was divorced from his wife, Eualene, and is survived by his brother George, his three daughters, a son, Derrick, and by nine grandchildren and 13 great-grandchildren.
